


Right, Left, Forward, Found

by Dream_edge



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Gen, In Your Hearts Shall Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_edge/pseuds/Dream_edge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She was my prisoner. My responsibility.” The words bubbled up, poisonous in her mouth, offered to Solas like a headman’s axe. “I dragged her up that mountain. I should have dragged her off it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right, Left, Forward, Found

The Right Hand of the Divine.

Cassandra had been the Right Hand for more than half her life. Life before the position felt a distant memory. Once, Cassandra had considered retirement with relief; the reality felt quite more like losing a limb.

Like being set adrift. Anchorless.

Yet.

Her feet found her a place at the Herald’s side. For all their differences, their occasional disagreements, Cassandra took great pride in working with Lavellan. So she followed the Herald across all of the Hinterlands, marched through swamps and constant storms, always only a few steps behind her.

Always only a few steps to the _left_.

No longer the sword, the conquering will of the Divine. But neither the knife in the back, the cloaked shadow. Rather the shield, the unmovable mountain; _I am here_ screamed at armies, while Lavellan’s quick fingers and teethed arrows disappeared into her shadow. Her world shifted, realigned, caught, as Solas had once said, in Lavellan’s gravity.

“She was right behind me.” Blackwall said. He sat between Sera and Varric, gazing at the camp fire without seeing it. He’d already been tended to by healers; his broken arm was wrapped and pinned to his chest. They’d had to leave his shield behind in Haven, though the twisted metal could barely be recognized as such. It was buried now, along with everything else. _Along with Lavellan_.  “I swear, she was right behind me.”

Lavellan had been. Cassandra still felt the ghost of Lavellan’s hand on her shoulder, urging her forward, front.

Then she simply hadn’t been. Dragon fire made of red lyrium spiking up, separating them, cutting them off. Cassandra had tried to go back, but her sword had only glanced off the lyrium. Solas had pulled her away, back, and they’d been flying through the Chantry and the path before Lavellan’s absence had really struck.

It was like the Conclave all over again. A slowly sinking emptiness that left both her sword and shield too heavy to raise. Her feet couldn’t find the road.

“They’ll make her a martyr for this.” Vivienne said with a quiet sorrow. She sat with the others around the fire, united in their grief.

Solas had yet to stop working, bent still over the wounded even as his magic pulled thin. Cassandra sat only a few paces from the others, listless, unable to join them with her guilt pounding in her ears.

“Piss that.” Sera snarled. “They should make her a bloody saint.”

Dorian started to laugh. Weak, watery, face half hidden in his hand, and so out of place it cut. Sera jumped to her feet with a vicious cry. “ _What are you laughing at?!_ ”

Dorian looked up and the firelight caught on tear tracks. “She would hate that.” He said, voice thin, choked, but he also managed a weak smile.

Sera stopped. Her expression stripped raw. “She would.” Sera agreed after a second, wobbly smile trying to break out. She giggled, which caught in a hiccup, and that was the end. Sera collapsed to her knees with a wail of pain and started sobbing in earnest.

Vivienne stood and gently cupped both Sera’s shoulders. “Come now, dear.” And that was all she said. Cassandra thought she couldn’t manage anything more than that. But Sera let Vivienne guide her to her feet again and then to the bench where she’d been sitting earlier. Vivienne kept hold of her until Sera turned and began to cry miserable little hiccups into her side.

“Seeker.” Solas called, voice quiet and unintrusive. Cassandra looked over as he approached, as grim-faced and solemn as always. There was grief tucked away in the corners of his eyes, the slant of his mouth, but it was tucked away; hands still steady and voice still even. _Pragmatic Solas_ , she thought with a small burst of warmth. There was something comforting in his evenness. His staff he’d left next to his bedroll; he instead carried a small bundle of bandages. “The healers tell me you have been refusing care.”

Cassandra glanced down at her own shield arm; not broken like Blackwall’s, but it was turning bruised and even a small weight made it hurt. “It’s nothing.” she assured. “Leave it.”

“Seeker.” Solas insisted, perfectly patient in a way Cassandra had never managed. He knelt at her side. “The Inquisition will need you before this is over.”

_Without Lavellan here to lead instead_ , hung between them unspoken.

Swallowing, she held out her arm. Solas took it between careful hands and set to work. “She’d know what to do.” Cassandra said, without meaning to. Solas stilled. “Or she’d… pretend to. We wouldn’t just be sitting here, waiting for the wolves to pick us off.”

It was so easy to imagine; Cassandra just had to close her eyes to see it. Lavellan marching through the makeshift camp, organizing as she went, at the least giving the appearance of control to sooth spirits. Forging onward like every movement was a dare to the world to just try to stop her.

Cassandra saw what needed to be done and did it; that was what she was good at. Only she couldn’t see what needed to be done. What _could_ be done. “We should have expected this. We suspected some of our enemies must have survived the explosion. We should have prepared. I should have.”

“Seeker.” Solas interrupted, soft and quiet. Cassandra looked down at him. The firelight was caught in his eyes, reflecting back in a way that reminded her more of foxes and wolves than anything elvhen. “Many crimes have been committed here, by many people. But I assure you, of all of us, none of this is your fault.”

“She was my prisoner. My responsibility.” The words bubbled up, poisonous in her mouth, offered to Solas like a headman’s axe. “I dragged her up that mountain. I should have dragged her off it.”

Solas reached forward and gently folded his hands over both of hers. His grief spilled into the furrow of his eyebrows, his heavy exhale. “No one makes Asalle do anything she doesn’t want to.” He said after a moment, words pulled tight. Her name tripped over his lips; Cassandra wondered if this was the first time he’d said it.

Pragmatic Solas. Distant Solas. Solas, whose hands weren’t quite so still anymore.

Cassandra returned the gentle grip and they were both shaking, though it didn’t fully reach Solas’ face. “I promised I’d get her back to her Clan.” Cassandra said, caught in a loop of failures.

Solas’ eyes closed, expression ight and pained. Whatever words ran like poison through Solas, he didn’t share, but Cassandra thought they screamed at him louder than hers ever had. She wished she had words for this that weren’t her own guilts, could offer something to give him a moment of silence, but peace of mind stretched absent in her mouth.

They sat there for longer than she kept track of. Cassandra didn’t hear any footsteps in the snow but there was suddenly a hand at her shoulder. It took her a moment to recognize the young man now standing at her shoulder, watching her with liquid blue eyes. Something in his face made her head hurt, the too prominent bones, the cheeks so thin. _He must be starving_ , Cassandra thought distantly, caught in the sad eyes.

Then, _oh, the boy from Haven_ , Cassandra recognized with a loosening of tension. “Cole, wasn’t it?” she asked.

Solas pulled away and she let him stand.

The boy didn’t reply, just turned and pointed at the far up mountain pass they had travelled through. Cassandra looked and, squinting, noticed a sudden, weak flare of Veil green light glaring off the snow. Her stomach dropped but she forced herself to her feet. “A rift. I’ll inform the Commander. Thank you, Cole.” she said and reached for sword and shield.

Solas’ hands covered hers again. “I will not stop you from fighting.” He said, “But you cannot use the shield. Your arm cannot handle the strain.”

Cassandra sighed but set the shield back down. “Take care, Solas.” she entreated.

“I always do.”

Cassandra set off for deeper into the camp, for where she had last seen Cullen. Behind her, she heard Solas ask, “You didn’t say anything?”

“She wouldn’t have believed me. Besides, she won’t make it on her own.”

Cassandra glanced over her shoulder, found Solas once again standing withdrawn and still as ice. He was speaking with an odd young man in a wide brimmed hat. _Who?_ she wondered, head pounding, then she dismissed it and continued on.

It took very little time to find Cullen and inform him of the situation. “What are you going to do against a rift, Cassandra?” Leliana demanded, even as Cullen searched for soldiers still willing and able to draw a sword. Josephine paced, pale-faced and anxious, between them. “We have no way of sealing it.”

_Not without Lavellan._

“We can contain it. We _must_ contain it.” Cassandra stated, firm and decisive now, because she could see this was what they needed to do. “These people are still looking to us for protection. We cannot allow demons to simply march in and slaughter us.”

“At the least,” Cullen broke in, “We can assess the danger. If it's a larger rift, we will have to move the camp.”

“Move it where?” Josephine asked.

“Somewhere else.” Cassandra stated. Then, “Are your men ready?”

“We are.” Cullen agreed.

“Then let’s move out.”

“Cassandra.” Josephine called. Cassandra paused and looked back at her. “Come back. Just… come back.”

“I will.” Cassandra promised.

The trek back up the pass was long enough for the soldiers’ nerves to stretch her own thin. She shared a look with Cullen, who just barely managed to smirk back at her, too exhausted for nerves. “With luck, it will be dormant.” Cullen said with weary hope.

“What luck?” a soldier muttered behind her.

“Is that light getting brighter?” Another asked, eyes narrowed at the pass.

“Yes.” Cassandra agreed and tightened her grip on her sword. “It is getting bigger.”

“No. Its getting closer.” Cullen said, confused for half a second before his eyes widened. “The Herald.” He took off in a run.

Cassandra’s heart leapt into her throat. _Oh Maker, please. Just this one thing._ she thought and hurried after him. “Asalle…” she breathed, begged, prayed. The name burned on her lips, the first time she had used it.

“There! Its her!” Cullen shouted.

Cassandra rounded into the pass and immediately met Asalle’s eyes. The woman was colorless with cold, though the Mark threw Veil green light across the snow. There was dried blood all along her armour and she was awkwardly holding her ribs. “Thank the Maker.” Cassandra said on a quiet exhale.

“Cassandra.” Asalle said, half a breath, half a sob, then collapsed to her knees.

Cassandra raced to her, dropped to her knees as well. Gently, so, so carefully, she griped the back of Asalle’s head and pressed their foreheads together. Her skin was ice cold but Cassandra still sobbed with relief.

“I made it.” Asalle slurred, eyes fluttering closed, but her lips were pulling into a colorless grin.

“Yes.” Cassandra agreed. “I’ve got you. It’s alright.” Asalle slumped into her fully, unconscious, and Cassandra held her tighter. Spoke into her hair, “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Cullen spun from them, pointed at the soldiers. “Alert the healers, now.” He ordered and Cassandra heard them hurry off. “She needs medical attention.” Cullen said to her and reached for Asalle. Cassandra pulled her away.

“I will carry her.” Cassandra stated. Carefully, so, so gently, she eased the bow and quiver from Asalle’s back and handed them to Cullen.

Cullen took them automatically, though he looked unhappy about it. “Cassandra, your arm-”

Her arm did scream as she picked Asalle up but it was such a small sound compared to the relief singing in her veins. She turned to Cullen, Asalle tucked carefully against her chest. “I dragged her up this mountain. I will carry her down it.”

Cullen’s expression softened and without another word he swung the heavy red coat from his shoulders and carefully tucked it around Asalle’s. Cassandra turned and began walking to the camp.

Ahead, word would already be spreading. Ahead, people would be pouring from tents and bedrolls to catch a glimpse of a miracle. Ahead, Sera would jump to her feet with a cry as wild and fierce and joyous as it had once been broken. Ahead, a boy would watch them come in with liquid eyes and something in her would recognize _Cole_ ; she’d nod her thanks and turn away before she saw the answering shock. Ahead, Solas would be waiting with staff and magic ready, looser and lighter than she’d yet seen, a mountain of calm for them all to lean on, and she’d leave Asalle in his care.

For now, her feet were steady on the path.

 

 


End file.
